


fallback

by unholyconfessions (orphan_account)



Series: cure for the enemy [1]
Category: Chicago Med
Genre: Episode Related, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Missing Scene, Post 1.03 - Fallback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-11 00:12:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5606275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/unholyconfessions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor would rather not risk the small semblance of camaraderie they have going on between them. It might not be perfect, but it’s better than it was days ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fallback

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I hope this is a thing. 
> 
> I'm really feelin' these two, and I'm aiming for a new drabble/missing scene after every episode. Of course I'll have to deviate from canon if they're going down the Halstead/Manning direction, but the core issues will be essentially the same.
> 
> Unbetaed as usual. Feedback is love. 
> 
> Enjoy! :-)

Connor takes a moment to glance between Halstead and the cup, his hand itching to accept the gesture and his brain reminding him of the possibility of Halstead having spiked it with a mild laxative, or worse.

"C'mon, Rhodes. Take it. It's just coffee," Halstead says, eyebrows raised, tipping the cup in Connor's direction. “It’s as immaculate as your hair, I promise.”

Connor accepts it, finally—not without a glare in Halstead’s direction, which earns him a smirk—and starts walking down the hallway, smiles into the cup as he hears Halstead's footsteps fall in sync with his. The smile melts into a low moan as the flavor meets his tongue—a milky Americano, exactly the way he likes it—and wonders how in hell Halstead knew how he likes his coffee.

That’s a question for another time, he thinks to himself as he takes another sip, dodging a nurse with a crash cart headed their way.

"You do realize the tie was a thank-you gift, right? You don't have to get me anything," he says, and quickly amends, "Not that I don't appreciate the coffee."

Halstead makes a sound between a groan and laugh, says, "This isn't about the tie," and Connor can't help but think, _oh_. "Although it _would_ take me roughly six months of doing coffee runs for you if I wanted to pay you back in full.”

Connor chuckles and shrugs one shoulder, gives Halstead a quick look. "It wasn't that expensive." That earns him a scornful look, but it doesn’t faze him as much as it should, if the frown Halstead gives him as he smiles is anything to go by. “You’re not buying me coffee for six months,” he says, simply, final.

He holds the door to the locker room open and Halstead brushes past him without another word or look. He doesn’t push it; he’d rather not risk the small semblance of camaraderie they have going on between them, even if it comes with more thinly-veiled passive-aggressiveness than he would like from a colleague—or a friend.

It might not be perfect, but it’s better than it was days ago; Halstead is a fine doctor and a nice enough person, if a little misanthropic and egocentric—but still, Connor appreciates him as much as he does Dr. Charles, Dr. Manning, or Reese, for that matter.

The weight of Halstead’s stare on his back is just unnerving enough to make him grind his teeth as he changes into his scrubs, but it’s not an unfamiliar sentiment to him. It's easy to ignore.

He hasn’t finished his coffee when Halstead walks past him and toward the door, stopping merely feet away to give him a tight smile. “You know, it’s not an Americano if it has milk in it,” Halstead says.

Connor chuckles, feels the vibrations down his chest as he glances up at Halstead, swallows it down as the moment passes. “How’d you know, anyway?”

Halstead smirks, arms coming up across his chest, and offers, “Zanetti told me.”

Connor blinks once, twice, and doesn’t bother asking how Halstead knows about that. Instead, he shakes his head, defeated, and takes one last sip of his milky not-Americano as Halstead leaves.


End file.
